To Where You Are
by Una Morgan
Summary: WICKED fic. Based on play. Elphaba melted, and Fiyero and Glinda deal with her death by setting up a memorial. Songfic


First off, to those of my usual reviewers (who are probably going "What the HFIL?"), my computer has had a majorly bad virus and I couldn't update _at all_!! No kidding! My Internet wasn't working, my scanner program could not be found, my AMVs drove it into hysterics, and if I was on any Word document for too long, it crashed. So, sumimasen!

To all who do NOT know me, welcome to my work! I normally write only anime stories, but have always wanted to do something different. However, this is not a huge leap for me. Tragedies and songfics are my forte! I don't know why!!

Please note that this fic is based on the stage version, with just a taste of the book for background. I read the book, and got depressed. It was awesome, very stimulating, but sad.

This is dedicated to my friend Jennyfish who, when she heard this song, said, "Oh gosh, I can just imagine Fiyero singing this about Elphaba after she dies." Of course, then we saw the play and found out she lives. Ah, well… Jenny challenged me, so I wrote it! It's not my best work, but its good enough to publish.

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Things you should know before you read: In this, Fiyero never got a letter to Elphaba in time, and she really did melt.

**Forever Love  
**By Una

The Scarecrow climbed rather clumsily down the steep slopes to Kiamo Ko. He had hoped to find no one else nearby. Luckily for him, the sentries that guarded the gates had gone; their master's assumed death and their mistress' assassination made their jobs rather redundant.

The tall, foreboding castle loomed amid the rocky crags of The Great Kells, a mere hundred miles or so west of Emerald City. The two gothic towers and three long hallways stretched into the heart of the mountains behind it, the gargoyles peering down to ward off any trespassers. Normally, the fires atop each corner of the towers would be lit, with the guards pacing back and forth along the walls above the heavy, black gates.

But the Scarecrow had not intention of bringing down the gates. As a child, he'd learned every secret passageway and tunnel underground that led inside.

Of course now if anyone looked at him, they would not have expected he even had a childhood. His face was now made of burlap, his uniform now tattered rags, and his head full of nothing but straw. His very existence seemed impossible, even in an enchanted place such as Oz. Only days ago he had been flesh and blood, known throughout the land as Prince of the Arjikis and Captain of the Wizard's Guard.

The things one gives up for love…

Now he was content with being the Scarecrow, newly appointed co-leader of Oz. He did not need to eat or sleep, never got sick or hurt, and probably would not die for a good long time, if ever.

As one of the new leaders of a rather shaky government, he had to be careful that no one knew he was sneaking off into the very site where the infamous Wicked Witch of the West met her downfall. He had the capability of doing some good for the citizens of Oz, and any blemish on his reputation might destroy that.

But what he felt he needed to do was far more important than politics.

The Scarecrow pushed aside a dead bush a few meters away from the entrance, opened the trap door, and jumped inside. The ladder led a normal person down several feet, but with this new body, he need not worry about broken bones. He simply scooped up the excess straw that burst out, and stuffed it back in his legs. Picking up his sack, he walked down the stone passageway.

After several hundred feet, he could have sworn he heard a "clank" behind him. He stopped for a couple of minutes. Hearing nothing more, he turned back around and continued his journey. However, he kept his non-existent ears open for any other type of sound the ones chasing him made.

Finally, the Scarecrow reached a slope leading to the dungeons of Kiamo Ko. They had not been used in ages; no wars had arisen in this part of Oz in the last five hundred years. Most fighting between the three tribes of the Vinkus occurred in the grasslands hundreds of miles away, and his ancestors never took prisoners. The Arjiki were a warrior tribe after all.

Holding up his lantern (and carrying it very, very cautiously), he walked up the winding, twisting stairways to the top of the first tower. A sudden "Oof," from behind him startled him so much he almost dropped everything and ran. He quickly regained his composure, waited a moment for more nose, and then sped up his walk. He knew something was following him. He'd known since before he'd reached the mountains. He also knew that he might not have to kill them to save his good name.

At long last, he reached the wall separating the two towers. Below him laid the valley, which led to the Thousand Year Grasslands, and beyond that the miles and miles of The Thursk Desert and Outer Vinkus. The sun would not rise for another hour or so, and even then the mountains would cover it. The moonless night was lit up by stars, sprinkled and glittering across the sky like thousands of diamonds against black velvet.

'Almost as black as her dress…'

He stayed quiet, even though he heard the huffing and puffing of one of his pursuers climbing the stairs. He hunted often in these lands as a child, before he attended Shiz, and had learned not to make unnecessary actions. Instead, he waited patiently for the two to arrive on the landing.

The Cowardly Lion had to use his front paws only to pull himself up the last flight of stairs. 'Too much,' he thought. 'Too much… for a fella… who has… lungs! These guys… have it… easy!'

The Tin Man kicked him lightly for the fifth time that night to keep him moving. He spotted their friend sneaking off at sunset the day before, but it was Lion's suggestion to follow him. 'If he wanted to see what Scarecrow was up to so badly,' Tin Man thought, 'he has to be the one to lead!'

The Lion gave one last gasp as he reached the top stair. "At pant last," he cried out, and gulped in large helpings of cool, fresh air!

Tin Man climbed over the Lion, frustrated. "You know, for a predator, you are really out of shape!"

"I pant never pant had pant the courage pant to hunt pant before," the Lion gasped with each breath.

The Scarecrow chuckled at their antics. "Give him a break, Tin Man," he said, still facing the grasslands. "It's a full ten hour hike from the Vinkus River to here. And neither of us need any rest!"

"I guess you're right." The Tin Man hesitated a few seconds, then joined the other speaker staring out into the Vinkus territory. "So, uh, I'm assuming that you didn't come just for the view."

"No. I actually came to pay my respects."

"To who? The Witch or the Arjiki clan?"

"Kinda both." He held up the sack for the Tin Man to examine. "I wanted to put these somewhere around here, and maybe carve something in the stone as a reminder."

The Tin Man opened the sack and gasped. "After all we went through, you're leaving the Ruby Slippers here?!"

"None of us need them. They were left to Elphaba on the event of Nessarose's death. You know that. You must have seen the will yourself."

"But she's dead! They're both dead! And she was w-"

"Don't say it," the Scarecrow interrupted angrily. "You know that's a lie! The only reason she was deemed 'wicked' in the first place was because she supposedly lied about the Wizard! Toto proved her innocent of that crime when he pulled back the curtain and revealed the Wizard to the four of us!"

"She… she's done other things…"

"All of which I'm sure can be accounted for." The Scarecrow turned his attention back to the valley. A soft wind blew down below, and the tall grass swayed as if to a dance. 'I hope she enjoyed the view for at least a little bit in the week before we arrived.'

The Tin Man rested his elbows against the wall. "Its just so much easier thinking of her as our enemy since, you know, he helped cause her death."

The Scarecrow nodded. "I know… but it's a lie I can't live with."

"I'm glad Dorothy never knew. She felt bad enough for killing two people as it was, evil or not. Finding out she was not really wicked would have been like salt in an open wound."

The Lion, catching his second wind at last, leaned against the wall next to the Tin Man. "You called her 'Elphaba,'" he said to the Scarecrow. "I didn't even know she had a name."

"'Course she did," said the Tin Man. "I did too before she turned me into… this!"

"Really? What was your name?"

"Master Boq," said the Scarecrow before the Tin Man opened his mouth. "He was forced to serve the Witch of the East, Nessarose Thropp. Elphaba turned you into tin because Nessa, to put it literally, 'stole your heart.'"

They both stared. "How did you know all that," the Tin Man asked in a rather shaky voice.

The Scarecrow ignored the question. He took a knife from the sack, and scanned the area for a good spot to carve. He chose the floor just inside the doorway to the North Tower, the very place she melted. Had she always been like this with water? What happened when she cried? Or bathed? He wished he could have known, but now there was no way to find out.

The Tin Man and the Lion stood over him, watching the slow process. During this time, the former told the latter what he knew of Elphaba's story (which was more than most of Oz knew, from a such a personal point of view and through Nessarose). Guilt dripped from each word he spoke. "And now we know that all of the so-called lies she told were in fact the truth after all. The Wizard blamed animals for all of the problems in Oz, and Elphaba stood alone to speak out the truth. Glinda must have been involved, too. She went with Elphaba to see the Wizard the same day!" Hurt echoed in his metallic chest. "She was involved in the conspiracies all along."

"And here I thought she really was so good," said the Lion after a while. "How could such a thing go on for so long? Didn't anyone else join her?"

The Scarecrow concentrated on the letters in front of him. His heart - if scarecrows had such a thing – ached more so then when his parents died. They watched him grow from afar, leaving his care to governesses and tutors. He grew up spoiled and proud of himself in every way. Everything came to him so easily. Riches? Always on hand. Attention? All worshipped him. Adventure? The life of a hunter prince was never dull. Girls? Easiest prey of all.

But from the moment he first saw Elphaba enter the Ozdust Ballroom, stepping out to dance alone in that ridiculous black hat, she captivated him. She alone had the courage to stand out with her head held high, and still compassionate to any animal in need. He admired her, adored her, loved her, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, fugitive or not. Yet, he could so nothing as the water dissolved her into steam.

Longevity seemed more of a penance.

Suddenly, a light began to shine behind him. Out of habit, he turned around and stood up for the approaching lady arriving in her usual fashion: by bubble. This time, however, Glinda the Good was accompanied by one of the flying monkeys Elphaba took care of.

Once she landed, her features were more clearly visible out of the happy, pink light. Her long dress glittered in the light of her silver wand, as did her blue eyes. "Well," she said calmly, "this is certainly the first pajama party I have not been invited to! What are you three doing here?"

The Lion stood froze with fright on being found by such an influential person in such an infamous area. "We – uh – were just – well – I mean – we followed Scarecrow – and…"

'So much for his courage,' thought the Scarecrow.

Although made of tin, and supposedly with no heart to speak of, the Tin Man stood up straight and rattled slightly. The Scarecrow could have sworn Boq would be blushing at the sight of his old crush. "M-Miss. Glinda! What are you doing here?"

Glinda's calm faÁade transformed to one of nervousness, and the Scarecrow was certain she was blushing! "Oh, I was just – um – just taking a look around Fiyero's old castle! I mean, after the Witch stole it…" She trailed off once she realized she was not fooling anyone. "Alright. I wanted to do something for Elphie."

"A little late for that," commented the Scarecrow.

The flying monkey in Glinda's company made his way to the Scarecrow's side. He cocked his head in concentration, attempting to decipher the words carved into the stone. Struggling to form his lips properly, he sounded out, "E… Elp-pa-ba?"

Glinda glided forward and put her hand gently on his head. "That is a very good try, Chistery," she whispered. She held up her wand to light the words, and recited:

"In loving memory of Elphaba Thropp of Colwen Grounds. Born in 3815 AO, martyred in 3841 AO. Activist, sister, daughter, and friend. 'She dared to defy gravity, and lived to care for the Oz that did not love her back.'"

"Nicely put," said Tin Man.

Glinda put a finger to her lips in contemplation. "Seems kind of plain to me."

"You're the witch," said the Lion. "Can you do something?"

"Well, I have been studying the Grimmerie fro-"

"You read," asked the Scarecrow in shock.

"Yes, I can read." Glinda turned her full attention to the Scarecrow. "You know… Your eyes look awfully familiar…"

Chistery took a bit of parchment with a list of translations out of a satchel and held open the Grimmerie for Glinda to shift through. "Let's see… This should do it!" She waved her wand over the modest tombstone and chanted a spell. Slowly, the stone turned to soft clay, and melded together in a pile. Gathering speed, the lump took the shape of a full-sized Elphaba on a pedestal in her lacy black dress and cape. In one arm, she cradled a baby monkey. In the other, she held her trusty broom at attention. A goat and a lion cub stood beside her, as if to give mutual protection. The inscription lay at the base, larger and in much fancier calligraphy. Glinda took out Elphaba's pointed hat, which she had kept after the incident, and handed it to Chistery, who climbed up and paced it on her head.

"Beautiful," said Tin Man, standing beside her.

"I never noticed how pretty she actually was," commented the Lion.

"Something's missing," said Glinda, examining her work.

"Green."

"What?"

"It should be green," suggested the Scarecrow softly.

Glinda nodded, waved her wand, and the stone turned into green marble. "There! Much better!"

The Tin Man chuckled. "Elphie would have been embarrassed about all the attention she's getting in death, when she didn't get as much in life!"

"She'd be embarrassed," agreed Glinda, "but she'd accept it gratefully."

The Scarecrow stepped forward, taking in the sight of the likeness. She looked so real! He reached up to touch the hand clutching the boom. So cold, but so soft. The real Elphaba never felt so cold. The internal passion always seemed to burst through her skin. If only she could be brought back in some way, but even magic could not recall souls back from the beyond.

"Straw Man," said Glinda from behind. "I knew Elphie; she was my best friend. But why did you come here in the first place?"

Grief swelled painfully within his chest. Why had he come back to Kiama Ko? Perhaps a bit of hope that she escaped somehow lingered in the back of his empty head. But, now, it was painfully obvious she had not. She was really gone. He tried to reply as best he could through the lump forming in his throat. "I knew… Elphaba…"

The sadness in his chest intensified as Glinda's eyes widened. A flicker of recognition glimmered in her blue eyes, and turned into the glimmer of tears as they fell from her cheeks. "Oh… Fiyero…"

The Scarecrow looked back into the statue's lifeless face. He started breathing harder. He could not cry, but he had to let out his emotions somehow, or else he felt ready to explode. He used the breath gathered in his lungs and sang:

_Who can say for certain?  
__Maybe you're still here  
__I feel you all around me  
__Your memory's so clear  
__Deep in the stillness  
__I can hear you speak  
__You're still an inspiration  
__Can it be_

_That you are my  
__Forever love  
__And you are watching over me  
__From up above  
__Fly me up to where you are  
__Beyond the distant star  
__I wish upon tonight  
__To see you smile  
__If only for awhile  
__To know you're there  
__A breath away's not far  
__To where you are_

Glinda closed her eyes, listening to the voice of the man she once loved with a small bit of jealousy. 'He truly loved you, Elphie! He truly did!' She joined in with the higher register harmony at the chorus.

_Are you gently sleeping  
__Here inside my dream  
__And isn't faith believing  
__All power can't be seen  
__As my heart holds you  
__Just one beat away  
__I cherish all you gave me  
__Everyday _

_'Cause you are my [You are my]  
__Forever love [Forever lo-ove]  
__Watching me [You're watching me]  
__From up above [So high above]  
__And I believe [I do believe]  
__That angels breathe [The angels breathe]  
__And that love will live on [Love will live on]  
__And never leave [It never leaves]_

Although Glinda's voice quivered, she remained steadfast on pitch. The Tin Man put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She set hers on his, not even considering it as metal, but as that of the little Munchkin boy she knew. The Lion sat in quiet reflection, staring in awe at the image of the supposed "wicked" woman. Chistery remained by his mistress' side, reminiscing on his own memories with Elphaba.

The sun finally peeked over the mountains and shone down on the group in mourning. Its rays created an almost holy glow about the statue. Somehow, it seemed to come to life in radiant glory. The singers also took in the rejuvenating warmth as it swept around them, and sang with more passion.

_Fly me up to where you are  
__Beyond the distant star  
__I wish upon tonight  
__To see you smile  
__If only for awhile  
__To know you're there  
__A breath away's not far  
__To where you are_

The Scarecrow finished off the song by himself, placing the Ruby Slippers in front of the replica of his beloved.

_I know you're there  
__A breath away's not far  
__To where you are_

* * *

"To Where You Are" music by Richard Marx, lyrics by Linda Thompson


End file.
